Seven Nights Down Under
by Silver Spider
Summary: Two strangers wanting to get away from the world find their roads intertwining. Robyn/Dingo. "Bad Guys"-inspired limited multi-part fic.
1. Night 1: Heat

_**Author's Note: **_Okay so this one is different from the others. First, it's not within the same continuity as my other Bad Guys one-shots. It'll be a limited multi-parter, and if I had to put it in a continuity, it would probably take palace sometime before the episode "Walkabout". On the one hand, yeah, it's AU, but on the other if you stretch things, it could have happened. Two, this is kind of a dark fic. Whether or not you think it deserves an NC-17 or just a hard R rating, it's certainly darker than most things I've written. Sex is a big part of it for many reasons and in may ways, none of them particularly romantic (though 100% consensual). So if it's not your cup of tea, turn back now. Otherwise, enjoy!

**Seven Nights Down Under**

**By: Silver Spider**

**Night 1**

**Heat**

_January 1996; Sydney, Australia,_

It figured that the year he returned home, Australia would suffer one of the worst heat waves since 1939. Temperatures in Sydney hovered steadily in the upper thirties even into the midnight hours, and of course he had to pick the bar with nothing more than a slowly rotating fan on the ceiling. At least the beer was cold. Everything else, Dingo would live with.

He rested his elbows on the bar and called for another beer. He'd thought he would feel better once he was back in his home country. He was still not even sure what had disturbed him so much. There were so many things to pick from. It was not as if Dingo was a stranger to blood and violence and death. The statute of limitation on how long a mercenary could stay naive was only so long. One either learned to put up with it or got out of the business. Anything else meant a real short lie expectancy.

He raised the bottle to his lips and scanned the bar for perhaps the fifth time that evening. It was relatively clean, or as clean as bars came in that part of the city. At one point, it might have even been a pleasant restaurant, but the decades had caught up to it. The wooden tables were scratched, seats and pool table cover worn. That was really the worst of it though. And the beer _was_ good.

"So what's the story here, Harry?" if there was anyone in the would he could be on a first name basis with it was the portly if not a little nosy bartender. "Sick of the States already?"

He shrugged and took another swig of his drink. "Yeah, turned out a little too wild for my liking. Came back down for a sanity check."

"Wild, huh?" the man across the counter eyed him, wiping a freshly washed glass with a formally white dish rag. "As opposed to here?"

"Sydney ain't exactly the outback."

"Are you sayin' you're actually stayin' in Sydney?"

Fair point, and that was where the conversation got a little too personal for his taste. The air in the bar was beginning to feel stuffy again, and in the last punch line, the fan stopped spinning.

And then _she_ walked in. It was not one of those cheesy romance movie moments or even a noir detective thriller one. Anyone could tell at a glance that she was no damsel. This woman, with her ivory skin, platinum hair, and eyes the color of Arctic pools, stood in the still-open door silently surveying the place. Theoretically, the open door should have been letting the heat from outside in. Instead, it felt like the woman had come on the heels of some icy northern wind.

As she continued to look the place over, her face not revealing a single hint of her thoughts, Dingo – as well as most of the males in the bar past puberty – watched her. Tall, athletic build, and there was something about her that practically screamed that she did not belong here despite her plain khaki shorts, white shirt, and simple flat sands. She did not have to open her mouth for Dingo to know she was not native.

Apparently satisfied enough, she took a seat one space away from corner of the long end of the open rectangular shaped counter that surrounded the bar. That was only a handful of seats away from where he say at the short end near the exit. Not being a man to complain when a good thing came along, Dingo quietly enjoyed the view. The woman gestured the bartend over to her with a wave, and the man was only too happy to comply.

"What'll it be, Miss?"

She pressed her scarlet lips together thoughtfully, one short hard nail tapping against the table surface.

"I'll drink Scotch, like a good little Canmore."

Her surname – at least that was what Dingo guessed it was – gave him nothing, but her brogue _was_ telling. He had been right; obviously a foreigner, and he had heard that accent before. Not American or British. Irish? No, that was not it. Her drink gave it away. Scottish. The old gargoyle in Manhattan had a Scottish accent. That was where he had heard it before.

"Straight up or on the rocks?"

"Straight, if you please."

Dingo raised a brow.

"Comin' right up," the bartender placed a napkin and empty glass in front of the woman and went to the shelf of liquor bottles behind him. She nodded and ran a long slender finger along the rim of the glass while she waited for her drink.

Suddenly her back straightened and expression changed from quiet contemplation to something unreadable. She reached into a pocket and pulled out a cell phone that must have been on vibrate because he did not hear it ring. Whoever it was, she was obviously not pleased to hear from the person because she hit the red end button hard with her thumb and replaced the phone. Her drink arrived then, and she emptied half the glass in a single gulp.

* * * * * * * * * *

She had come to Australia because it was the most remote place she could think of where people still spoke some semblance of English, and Sydney was her stop because while Robyn _had_ wanted to get away, she had no desire to abandon civilization completely. She had never been to Australia before and figured no one would think to look for her here.

It had become a ritual of sorts for her as soon as she felt Jonny was old enough to be left alone for any prolonged period of time. Every year, Robyn Canmore would disappear for a week. No hunts, no brothers, no history. Nothing but quiet time alone in a place where her name would have no meaning. One week out of the year she could be just any other completely unimportant woman. Jason and Jon knew better than to bother her then.

Sydney was much like she had expected, except for the heat. That part of Australia was known for its moderate climate in both summer and winter, so the relentless humid heat came as an unpleasant surprise. She finally ventured out late in the evening and after walking around for a short while, decided on the first bar that looked moderately well maintained. The inside was not too bad either, and despite the fact that she could practically feel several men staring, after a glance around at the patrons, Robyn decided that there was no one there she could not take in a fight if it came to that. She was slightly appalled with herself when the thought that maybe a fight was exactly what she needed flashed through her mind.

Robyn was in a black mood and ordered the strongest drink she could stomach. It was probably not a good idea to get drunk alone in a place she did not know, but she would cross that bridge when she came to it. Her cell vibrated, and her mood grew even darker when she saw Jason's number flash on the display. No way. Come hell or high water, she would have her space. She hit the end button with unnecessary force and was glad when at that moment her Scotch arrived. _Not bad_, Robyn thought after a gulp. Maybe her night was looking up after all. She took another look around the bar.

There was little in the way of an actual dining area. The few tables that were there served as the centers for clusters of people, more likely than nor groups of friends out for a lat night drink. Some men were gathered around the old pool table and it looked like they were halfway through with a game. Then her attention was diverted by something else. There was a man in the corner of the bar she had not noticed before, but now she realized why he had suddenly caught her eye; unlike everyone else, he was the only person in the place aside herself who was drinking alone.

Some details were hard to make out in the dim lighting, but the man was tan and very well built, like someone who spent long hours doing hard work outdoors. His attire was casual and even managed to make the mohawk look half-descent. The most interesting thing about him, she found when they both happened to glance in one another's direction, were his clear blue eyes. Such a contrast against the backdrop of his tan features.

The man raised his bottle of beer in acknowledgment, and she returned the gesture with her glass of Scotch. It was not that the stranger was strikingly handsome, but he emitted a kind of aura of primal masculinity that made the already sweltering night feel several degrees warmer. She looked away, carefully hiding a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance for letting her hormones go to her brain.

Any other thoughts about the stranger were instantly interrupted when he phone in her pocket began to vibrate again. That was it! She slid off the barstool and stalked to the back exit, pushing the door open but at the last minute remembering to wedge it with her foot in case it was locked from the outside. Standing on the top step that lead down to the ally behind the bar, Robyn was determined to give her big brother a piece of her mind and then shove the cell phone in the nearest dumpster. Then he could lecture the rats to his heart's content.

"You better be calling because one or both of you are in a hospital," she hissed into the receiver through gritted teeth, "because if it's not, so help me God, Jason, I'll put you there myself when I get back."

There was a long pause on the other end followed by a tentative, "Robyn?"

"Jonny?" some of her anger subsided, replaced by confusion. If her little brother was calling maybe something _had_ happened. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah... umm...," why did he sound so nervous? "Jason asked me to tell you..."

"'Jason asked'?" her ire was back in an instance. "Put him on."

"But..."

"Now, Jonny!"

Muffled argument followed on the other end. She was ready to end the call on her end when her other brother picked up the receiver. Robyn did not let him start.

"That was low, Jason. You don't use Jonny to pass on your messages."

"How else am I supposed to tell you anything when you don't pick up when I call?" his tone was defensive rather than angry, probably because he knew he was the one in the wrong.

"I don't pick up because I know whatever it is can wait."

"Now, listen..."

"No, _you_ listen: you're not going to bully me into thinking that I don't earn one week out of fifty-two to myself. You're both big boys now. You can survive without me. If it's not a matter of life and death, I don't want to hear about it," the pause told her he was trying to come up with an angle that would make whatever it was sound like life and death. "Good-bye, Jason."

She ended the call before he could scream that there was no vacation for any Hunter until the Demon was dead. Neither of her brothers really understood how important this week was for her. Robyn honestly thought that if she did not get this time to herself, she would go crazy. Her fabled discipline and work ethic could only hold out for so long before she needed to release some tension. Her annoyance had subsided enough not to trash the phone. Instead Robyn turned it off completely and headed back into the bar.

The man who had been sitting near th exit swiveled on his stool away from the bar to face her as she reentered.

"Kids not givin' you space?" he asked, his native accent clearly present.

She should have been annoyed that the stranger had apparently been listening in on her conversation, but for some reason she was not. It was what you did at bars, after all; strike up conversations with strangers you would never see again. Combined with alcohol, it was cheaper than therapy. Probably more affective too.

"They're only my kids part-time," she returned to her glass. The man raised a questioning brow. "My brothers."

"Ah," he nodded in understanding. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're quite a long way from home for just wantin' to get away."

"I'd go to Antarctica, but sadly there's a shortage of alcohol."

"That bad?"

"Probably worse, but I try not to dwell on it."

They fell into silence, both nursing their respective drinks. Finally the man finished off his beer and slid the empty bottle to the far side of the table for pickup.

"No offense to Pete over here," he jabbing a thumb in the direction of the bartender who was busy with a new batch of arrivals, "but I know a better place than this. Food's not that great, but the drinks are descent and the music's not bad. Plus it's got central air."

"Is that an invitation?" Robyn raised an elegant brow.

"If you want it to be."

She tapped the side of her now nearly empty glass. It was not like her to get up and go somewhere with a man she had just met, but she was on vacation and she'd be damned if she did not take a chance to have a little fun.

"What's your name?"

"Harry."

"Well, Harry, I don't have a habit of going out on the town with strange men in foreign countries," she informed him. "Unless, of course, they're good guys. So I suppose the question is are you a good guy?"

He chuckled a little as if the inquiry was somehow funny and flashed her a lopsided grin. "Only recently."

She returned the smile, a little mysterious and seductive, then picked up the remainder of her drink and finished it in one shot. "Lucky me. Lead the way."

* * * * * * * * * *

The other place was actually a club a few blocks away with several bar and sitting areas all surrounding an enormous dance floor. Heart-pounding techno music blasted from countless speakers situated all around the place including the beams of the high ceiling. Streams of different colored neon lights scanned the floor, illuminating various dancers for a few seconds at a time before moving on.

If he were truthful, Dingo would have admitted it was not really his scene, but his companion for the evening – he learned during their short walk that her name was Robyn – seemed to appreciate the atmosphere. She absently nodded her head to the music as she looked around and followed him to one of the bars. When he glanced over his shoulder, noting the slight crease in her brows when she saw how crowed the bar area was.

"I'll get the drinks if you wanna head over to the dance floor," he offered.

"What about you?"

"Maybe later. Don't think I've had quite enough alcohol yet for dancin' ," he was not about to admit that could not put two steps together to save his life. "Another Scotch?"

She nodded and thanked him before heading down to where the crowds of people were moving to the music. Dingo waited for a good ten minutes and when the two glasses finally arrived, he walked over to the railing overseeing the dance floor. He debated whether he should attempt to bring her the drink or wait until she had her fill of dancing, not at all certain he could even find her if he tried.

Finally he did pick her out of the multitudes of moving bodies, though Dingo was not at all sure how he had managed it. Maybe it was because among all the painted faces and flashy clothes, she was the most natural, her movements rhythmic and hypnotic as she swayed to the music. There was no telling just how long he had watched her except that the ice in his glass had begun to melt. The more he watched her, the more Dingo thought that the central air in the place was not nearly enough. He emptied his glass in two gulps, letting the liquor burn down his throat, and started for the dance floor.

Fuck inhibition.

The crowd smelled like sweat and adrenaline and alcohol as he weaved his way through it. He was behind her in less than a minute, but she did not seem to have noticed, lost in the music. Or maybe she had noticed and was waiting for him to take action. Not one to disappoint a lady, matched her movements and ran a few callused fingers in a feather-light touch along her arm before splaying his palm against the flat of her stomach where her shirt had ridden up slightly. Her skin was cool and soft, and he was pleased when she responded by moving her right hand to his arm that encircled her waist and the other bent at an angle and touched the back of his neck. _This_ kind of dancing he could definitely get used to.

She turned her head slightly, blue eyes a bit clouded, studying him. Whatever she wanted to see, she must have seen it, because Robyn lifted her face to his and kissed him, a full open mouthed kiss that let him taste the Scotch that still lingered on her tongue. The effect was fast and potent, as his blood rushed south, making his jeans feel far too tight. Unabashed, he let her know just what her mouth was doing to him. Instead of moving away or breaking the kiss, she simply smiled against his lips and pressed her hips deeper against his.

Suddenly Dingo realized that any further dancing was likely to get real uncomfortable.

"How 'bout we get outta here?" he whispered horsely, nuzzling the hair just above her ear.

How they actually made it to his hotel room, he was never sure. The only thing Dingo knew was that as soon as the door slammed shut behind them, their lips locked again and clothes were being torn off in a big hurry. He was both surprised and pleased at how aggressive and passionate she was, this strange beautiful foreign woman, and would have liked more time to enjoy the view of her slender body naked on top of the covers, but patience was not something either of them had in reserve.

Foreplay was not really necessary as most of it had taken place on the club's dance floor, and they both seemed eager to get to the finish line. Still, being a gentleman, he dipped two fingers in between her folds. Robyn moaned appreciatively, confirming what he had already discovered; she was more than ready for him. If that was not proof enough, she grasped his upper arm, pulling him further up the bed, guiding him within her. Dingo needed no more encouraging. He was inside her in one strong smooth thrust.

They both gasped at the sudden rush of pleasure, but quickly found a rhythm, hard and fast. He felt her fingers lightly touch the place they were so intimately joined and had to force himself to pry her hand away, pinning her wrists in a cross above her head. Robyn struggled for a moment, displeased at having lost the ability to touch him. The only thing she could do was thrust her hips forward, and it was all he could do not to come right then and there.

"Don't," he breathed. "Jus' let me..."

Thankfully she did not torture him for much longer. Her back arched, perfect round breasts pressing against the solid wall of his chest, and she fell over the edge. His pride satisfied, Dingo finally allowed his body to follow.

_**Author's End Note:**_ The plan is that this is part 1 of 14 (7 nights, 7 days). No, I still haven't forgotten about "Symphony of Angels" but I work best on what's most vivid in my mind, and currently it's this fic. Hope you guys liked and more soon.


	2. Day 1: Greetings

_**Author's Note:**_I think morning-afters are more awkward for me to write than for the characters to experience ^^;; This + the first part should give you a good idea how the rest of the fic is going to be organized. Obviously it's a slow build. It'll get more intense as the week goes on. One day down, six more to go! Enjoy and please review!

**Day 1**

**Greetings**

Robyn always considered herself well-educated enough to know that sometimes there was nothing wrong with sex just for pleasure if one was not stupid about it. Despite the lack of any serious relationship which was more than a challenge in her line of work, she had had a number of lovers in her life, many on trips such as this one. Most of the time both parties were satisfied and parted ways with no hard feelings or strings attached. But she had never experienced anything like the kind of chemistry she felt with this man.

Her mind was still a little foggy. Not so much from sleep or alcohol – Robyn could drink with the best of them – but from the sheer intensity of the previous night. From a purely outside perspective, the sex was nothing special, except that she was fairly certain she had never come so hard in her life. All from a few hours with a stranger she met at a bar on her first night in Sydney. With the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the moth holes in the room's curtains, she had a chance to better study him as he slept. _Nice_, she suppressed a smile and the urge to run her fingers along his well-defined abs. She always had been attracted to this kind of unencumbered masculinity but rarely had the chance to enjoy such a find.

A slightly more practical matter distracted her. Just whose room was this exactly? Robyn had a vague memory of wondering how he knew where she was staying when they had made it here last night, but she quickly realized that it was not her room after all. Same hotel. Different room number. What were the odds? Her brows drew together, logic rearing its ugly head when she least wanted it. Why would someone who was clearly native to Australia be staying in a hotel? Robyn did not wonder it further, because the man in question stirred on the bed beside her.

"G'mornin'," his voice was somewhat husky, as he rubbed his eyes with the back of one large hand brushing away the remainder of sleep and looked at her.

Robyn guessed she was supposed to be uncomfortable. The rulebook of one-night stands said that the morning-after was supposed to be awkward, complete with blushes and fluster. She was certainly not a woman who did either, but Robyn did pull a crumpled white sheet off the bed to cover her naked breasts.

"Morning," she replied. "Have you by chance seen my clothes?"

"An' then some," he stretched, grinning, and pointed at the trail that started at the door and ended at the foot of the bed.

She got up, pulling the sheet along and letting it trail on the floor behind her, and deftly picked up the articles. Her panties were missing, but she did not have far to look because the man fished them out from under the covers and tossed them to her with a grin. Robyn thanked him courtly and headed for the bathroom. Only when the door was shut and locked behind her did she exhale. What was with her that that smile of his made her want to rush back out there and relive last night all over again? Her libido was supposed to be back to normal in the morning.

Having dressed and washed her face, Robyn decided she was presentable enough to head back out. Harry was also up, but not dressed further than his boxers. He pulled out a clean shirt from the duffel bag he was rummaging through and looked up a little surprised when she reentered.

"That was quick," he commented.

"My things are back in my room," she explained, "and I didn't want to hijack your shower."

The excuse was a somewhat lame considering the fact that every hotel room came with at least two sets of clean towels and sets of small shampoo bottles that were replaced daily. The contents of his bathroom were virtually identical to hers, but she still preferred to return to her own room. It was moot point to shower if she did not have fresh clothes to change back into. Besides, she did not mid having his scent on her skin for a little while longer.

After a moment, he nodded.

"Look," he said. "I'm not sure where you're stayin', but I know a little 'bout how this works. I'm gonna hit the shower. If you're not here when I'm out for whatever reason, then thanks for a hell of a night, and I'll be goin' downstairs for some good ol' complementary breakfast. No harm, no foul. But if you decide to stick around, we could get breakfast together and then head out on the town. There's more t' Sydney than bars, clubs, and motel rooms."

At least by the time he let the shower water run, Dingo had not heard the front door close. He really had no idea whether she would stay, but he sincerely hoped so. It would be interesting to talk to her in the daylight hours, find out what she was doing in that part of Sydney. The bar she had walked into was not exactly a tourist attraction. Besides, there was nothing like the company of a beautiful woman to make a man forget his troubles. He had not enjoyed himself that much in a long time. Some parts of his anatomy remembered just how much, and Dingo cursed as he turned the knob on the shower to cold.

He was disappointed when he emerged to find her gone without so much as a note with a number. _Ah, well_, he thought, pulling on his jeans. _Easy come and so forth_. But it was too bad. Maybe it was time for him to move on too. Sydney was not bad, but crowded. Dingo wondered if what he really needed was to get away from people altogether for a while. Clearing his head would be easier without so much noise around.

He promised himself that he would pack the duffel right after he got some food in his stomach and hoped that the heatwave would finally break today as he opened the door. He nearly walked right into her. Robyn, freshly showered herself, wore a turquoise tank top and a loose light colored skirt that ended just above her knees. Suddenly it was not the heat outside he was thinking about.

He wondered how she could have possibly returned so quickly, before it finally clicked.

"You're stayin' here, too," he accused but did not bother hiding the grin.

"A few doors down," she waved her hand to the right and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. "Does your offer to play tour guide for the day still stand?"

"Only if you keep me company for breakfast," he shut the front door behind him.

If there was one thing to be said about hotel complementary breakfasts, it was that there was a lot of it. Containers with scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and strands with muffins and bagels were out in the dining area. The entire place was also saturated with the smell of coffee, though it was definitely the least appetizing part. It was nearly ten, and most of the guests had already eaten and set out for the day. The staff was beginning to clean up the food, but Dingo managed to collect a plate-full and some coffee before returning to the table. Robyn sat with her sliced bagel and jam and cup of hot water from which dangled the label of a Lipton packet.

"Not big on the coffee here?" he nodded at the cup.

"I hate coffee," she replied, dunking the tea bag in a few more times before disposing of it on her napkin. "This isn't the greatest tea in the world either, but it'll do."

"They drink a lot of tea in Scotland? That's where you're from, right?"

"It's where I was born," Robyn tried not to smirk too much at his blatant attempt to fish for information. "I've lived in too many places since then to be able to call any one home."

"I know the feelin'," he nodded. "I jus' got back here a few weeks ago after a good decade or so. Probably more."

That answered her question about why he was staying at a hotel. "Where were you?"

_Oh, let's see. First I spent some years as a mercenary in Central America, switchin' sides whenever pay dictated. Then I actually had a legit gig in the States for a while, as an actor of all things. 'Course it turned out the crew I hooked up with were a bunch o' nut jobs... Yeah, that's the ticket to a lady's heart._

"I worked in the States for a while," he said simply. Dingo knew he did not look like the type of man to have a respectable corporate job, but if Robyn thought that she did not comment.

"So you're back visiting family?" she asked instead.

"Nah, jus' seein' if the ol' you-can't-go-home-again sayin' is true."

"And what is your conclusion?"

"Haven't decided yet," he stuffed a some bacon and eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "What 'bout you? Any family 'side from the brothers?"

"Just the two," she replied. "I'm in the middle, though sometimes I feel like I'm the oldest."

"Like you're the only sane one?" she chuckled humorlessly in response. "Yeah, I know _that_ feelin' too."

They fell into an uncomfortable silence. Obviously the conversation had strayed too far on both ends. Dingo was in no mood to reminisce about his years in the States, and Robyn did not look like she wanted to talk about her family. He decided it was time to steer the conversation to safer waters.

"Anyway, what'd you wanna see in Sydney?" he asked.

Robyn shrugged. "You're the tour guide."

"Yeah, but did you just come here with nothing in mind? Most people don't exactly take a vacation in a country half the world away without some kinda plan."

"I'm not most people," he gave her a look, and she sighed. "Fine. What about the opera house?"

Dingo resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Everyone wants to see the opera house." She looked like she was about to yell at him for telling her to pick something and then being unhappy with her choice so he quickly relented. "Tell you what: I'll show it to you in the evenin'. There's a spot with a good view, but it's more interesting after sunset. Meantime, since it's Saturday, let's head over to the Rocks."

* * * * * * * * * *

Since neither had apparently bothered with a rental, they took the metro to Circular Quay station and walked the rest of the way. The day was hot, but the breeze from the Sydney Cove made the walk up George Street more tolerable. Even before they arrived at the heart of the district, Robyn could tell she would like the place. It was a historic district in a modern city, and for all her technological inclinations, she very much appreciated the past.

Not to mention the open air market place brought out her rare girly side.

She leisurely walked by the stalls, touching the various things on sale. Robyn had seen enough of these sort of markets in Europe not to take it too seriously when the sellers claimed to have the genuine article. She rarely bought anything, but it was fun to look. One particular stall with stone and wooden artifacts modeled after aboriginal originals looked interesting, including a hollowed out painted wooden cylinder about as long as her arm.

"That's a didgeridoo," her companion who was a step behind her explained. "Well, a miniature o' one anyway. Real ones are much bigger than that."

"Some kind of," Robyn picked it up and examined it, "musical instrument?"

"For various native ceremonies," Dingo nodded. He looked around the stall and pulled out a pendant on a thin leather string. "Here. This might be more your taste."

He dropped the piece into her open palm, and Robyn rubbed the pad of her thumb over the colorful oval mosaic that was shaped into something that vaguely resembled a snake.

"Does it have any significance?" she asked.

"It's the Rainbow Serpent. Top dog in native myths 'cause he's responsible for water, and thus life. So it's kinda like a lucky charm, I guess. If you're looking for anything half-authentic in the way of a souvenir, that'd be the kinda thing t' get."

"You believe in that sort of thing?" she teased.

"Nah, not really," though he did not know if she meant luck or the myth.

Robyn smiled. "I think I'll take it anyway. Who knows; maybe it'll bring us a little rain for luck. A break in this heatwave would be nice."

She went to pull out her wallet, but he stopped her.

"I got this."

He handed the saleswoman a note before she even had a chance to object. The woman over the counter gave him back some coins in change all the while smiling brightly at the two of them. Dingo thanked her and turned back to Robyn, who was giving him a look.

"What?"

"You didn't have to do that."

"What? The necklace? It's a market stall trinket, Sheila, not a four carat platinum. Jus' enjoy and say thanks."

"Thank you," she smiled and tied the leather string around her neck. "You still didn't have to."

They walked around for a few more hours. Dingo told her a little of the district's background, the various festivals it hosted, and what places were worth visiting. They stopped for a late lunch at the G'Day Cafe which had delicious lattes served with a square of dark chocolate on top which melted into brown streaks across the white foam. They were still sitting on the veranda, their plates long removed, when Dingo looked out and realized that the sun had set about an hour ago.

"No rush or anythin' ," he checked his watch, "but we might wanna head back out soon."

"Why?"

Robyn had finally relaxed to the point where she completely lost track of time. It was an absolutely wonderful feeling. In the early evening hours even the heat was tolerable so sitting down in the cafe just talking and watching people pass was all she wanted to do at the moment. She resented the idea of having to get up and go somewhere again.

"That view of the opera house I promised," he reminded her. "Should be just 'bout ready by the time we get there."

"Alright," she pushed away from the table with some reluctance. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," he grinned coyly. "It's not that far. Let's walk."


	3. Night 2: Beauty

_**Author's Note: **_So yeah I know, I've been gone a little while. I was in London for a little over a week with no access to the internet and limited access to a computer, but the good news is that the next chapter of this is already in progress. Again, since this is a night chapter, it has a hard R or NC-17 rating attached to it, though I'd like to think I'm being tasteful with my sex scenes. Enjoy!

**Night 2**

**Beauty**

It did not take her long to figure out that their destination was the city's great arch bridge, the Sydney Harbor Bridge. By the time they were at the mouth it was well past nine and behind them the nighttime city was alight. Robyn made an effort not to glance back at it until they reached whatever spot he was leading her to. They were at the halfway point on the right side when he stopped and pointed across the water.

The sight was indeed breathtaking. With the contours of th arching rooftops traced with light, the whole structure reflected off the bay and cast an odd sort of magical feel on the city. It was a strange word to use for such a modern metropolis as Sydney, but it was the first thing she thought off. A singularly perfect weave of technology and enchantment.

The wind from the bay picked up a little, and she reached into the pocket of her skirt to pull out a rubber band. Once her hair was firmly tied back and out of her face, Robyn leaned on the railing. It was not lost on her that her guide spent more time looking at her than at the opera house, but she spent a few more minutes purposefully focused on the scene before her.

"Enjoying the view?" she finally asked tilting her head to look at him from the side.

"I've seen it," his tone was nonchalant. "View's much better from where I'm standin' ."

"Is it now?" Robyn smiled coyly.

Coming from anyone else such a cliché line would have made her roll her eyes and pointedly tell her date to have a good night, but she had asked and he answered truthfully instead of bumbling for some lame excuse about where his attention was really focused. She found the honesty refreshing. Seeing that his comment had pleased her, he smiled as well.

"But if we're talking about the opera house, really the best is from up there," he pointed at the top of the arch above them. "There are tours that climb up across the top during the day, but I didn't know if you'd be up for it."

Robyn eyed the metal beams that made up the massive arches, wondering just what the bay and city would look like from that high up. The view was wonderful as it was, but she imagined it would be even more so from that hight. Her companion must have seen something in her face because he gave a little smile.

"We could go now," he suggested wryly. "Course that's if you're in the mood t' get arrested."

"I'll pass," she chuckled and turned her eyes back to the opera house. "The view is lovely from here. The architecture is quite incredible. It's a shame what goes on inside bores me to tears." Realizing she might have just unintentionally insulted the famous landmark, Robyn waved her hand dismissively. "I've never been a fan of opera. Maybe as an alternative to sleeping tablets, but not as a form of entertainment."

Instead of being offended, he laughed. "Who was cruel enough to drag you t' that?"

"My father. He took all three of us to see a production of Faust when we were in Paris once. Five acts of nonstop singing. In French, no less. My little brother was asleep before the end of the first act. I managed to hold out till the third."

"Impressive," Dingo replied as if they were discussing a very serious matter. "Guess it's lucky I never actually been t' one myself. What do you prefer?"

"Anything but opera," Robyn laughed. "I like modern dramatic performances, most of Shakespeare's works, except maybe "Romeo and Juliet". "Much ado About Nothing" is my favorite comedy and "Hamlet", my favorite tragedy."

"Classics," he thought of his own choices then finally said. "I'm gonna go with the histories, though. "Henry IV, Part 2"."

Robyn gave him a curious look.

"What? Thought I don't read?" he challenged.

"No, it's just that most people would have picked the first part. Why that one?"

"Character growth," he said simply. Anyone who had read the play would have known exactly what he was talking about.

"Fair enough," she said glancing back at the opera house.

"It might have somethin' t' your taste," Dingo offered with a nod in the same direction, "if you wanna go just t' be able to say you've been there."

The part about going with him remained unspoken, but she understood. For some unimaginable reason it made Robyn feel a little sad. She released a light sigh and curled her fingers on the railing, feeling his eyes on her again. The metal was cool, and Robyn allowed herself to focus on the feel for a few minutes before finally responding.

"Don't you have anything better to do than show a foreigner around?"

It had come out harsher than she had intended. Or on second thought, maybe not. She realized that maybe she had intended to offend him or scare him off with her abrasiveness. Then she could return to her typical solitary vacation, and this day would be just a pleasant memory. But if that had really been her intention, conscious or not, it had not worked. The man shrugged his shoulders.

"Not really. Like I said, I just made it back myself an' still figurin' things out. Pretty sure I can spare however long you're here."

"A week," it was just as much a reminder to herself as it was a reply to him. "Six days now, I suppose."

"So let's hang together," he offered. "I think we had a pretty good time today."

"Aye," a little specific Scottish slipped into her speech.

The truth was that Robyn could not remember the last time she had let herself relax so much. What was the harm in letting herself spend the rest of her vacation with this man? It was not like she'd ever see him again, but in the meantime why should she not enjoy herself? She would no doubt get more out of the trip with a local as a guide, plus... Robyn smirked a little and turned back to him, leaning back against the railing.

"How long would you say it'd take us to get back to the hotel?"

Dingo, not expecting the question, quickly did the math in his head. " 'Round this time? Probably 'bout an hour and a half."

"Ah, then I hope there's some late-night drugstore open around there, because I doubt there's one in the Rocks."

She started back towards the shore they had left, and Dingo watched her in bewilderment, his look clearly asking what she needed at a drugstore. Robyn turned, walking backwards for a moment as she faced him with a sly grin on her face.

"I like to live dangerously, but one night of unprotected sex is plenty dangerous for this little venture," she declared. "So unless you have a secret stash somewhere, we need condoms. About six nights' worth."

The only clue that he was surprised was a slight rise in his brows over his sparkling eyes.

"Is that in way of payment or fee for my services as a guide?" Dingo asked mischievously as he followed her.

"Oh," Robyn pretended to think. "It's definitely payment. At least tonight."

* * * * * * * * * *

If there was one thing Dingo could say for this woman, it would be that she was not subtle. The college aged young man must have just come in on the graveyard shift at the 24/7 pharmacy across the street from their motel when they passed through the automatic doors at five minutes past eleven. He was bleary-eyed and looked more than a little started when the tall blond walked over and asked where the contraceptives were. The kid, having trouble tuning into her accent, looked like he was about to ask for a clarification but got it before she could get annoyed.

"Isles 3. All the way in the back," he blurted.

Robyn headed in the indicated direction in long strides. She had the gate of a soldier, direct and purposeful, despite the obvious feminine allure of her body. Dingo watch for half a heartbeat then, winking at the kid across the counter as if sharing a shared male understanding, followed her. It did not bother him in the least that the young man just stared in bewilderment. He would understand some day that when a woman like that walked into a man's life, for however brief a time, and told him they needed condoms, he did not question his fortune.

When he reached the back isle, she was already holding a box in hand ready to head back to the cashier. Dingo immediately noticed two things; one good, one not so much. The good news was that the box was as big as it came without falling into the wholesale category. The bad... He snatched it from her hands and made a point to put it back on the shelf and pick up a different one. Robyn raised a single brow.

"Have an awful high opinion of yourself, do you?"

"If you have any memory lapses from last night, I'd be more than happy to remind you that those," he pointed at the box he had just set down, "won't do much good. 'Sides I think I know my cock better than you do, sweetheart."

A different woman might have been startled by the crude language. Robyn merely took that as a valid argument. "We'll see to that."

Dingo was firm in his impression that she intended to lead this dance, and he did not mind letting her. He did not argue when she led him to her hotel room, shut the door behind them, and with a firm push directed him towards the bed. He sank down at the foot without bothering to pull off the top covers and had just enough time to shed his jeans and shoes before she walked back to him, still fully clothed save for her sandals which lay discarded at the door. He propped himself up on his elbows, ready to help speed up the process, but she pushed him back down, not too gently.

"I told you tonight's payment," she admonished and produced one of the silvery packets from the box they had just purchased. "Just lie back and relax."

Again, Dingo did not protest but was more than a little surprised when something warm and wet covered his already half-erect shaft, and it was definitely _not_ her cunt. He jerked involuntarily, but she pushed him down again and continued to work her magic. Dingo swallowed hard, his eyes rolling back, hands threading through her long blond hair. Good God, the things this woman did with her mouth... He was lost in the liquid heat, feeling himself grow at every stroke of her tongue.

Time seemed to stretch on forever, but eventually his cock twitched. If she kept this up, the night would be very short-lived, and he was determined that he be not the only one enjoying it. His fingers tightened in her hair, urging her up lightly. She finally moved, but not before giving his head a little extra attention. He forced his eyes open to watch as she unceremoniously stepped out of her skirt and plane practical white panties and straddled his hips, the heat and wetness of her rubbing tantalizingly against his length.

"Shirt off," he demanded, tugging the edge of her tank top upwards.

She pulled it off in one smooth motion, baring her firm creamy white breasts for him to admire. Before she could protest, he pushed himself up just enough to take a rosy tip into his moth, alternating between licking and blowing warm air on it until it puckered. His hands roamed across her torso as he lavished the other peak with the same attention until she moaned softly.

Robyn leaned forward, lips hovering above his. Their tongues dueled for a few moment, but he eventually relented, letting her do as she pleased, and, oh, did she ever. Her mouth was making a good effort of distracting him from what was going on bellow, but he could not have missed her hand at the base of his cock, guiding him within her body. Her hand remained there, even as she began to move. They had not bothered with the lights, but he could feel her body slide along his, creating a wonderful friction everywhere their flesh touched.

Almost no words passed between them, yet the room was far from quiet, saturated with the recognizable sounds of sex. Hardly able to form anything akin to coherent thought at the moment, Dingo still wondered what it would be like to have her really let go until she writhed and begged for completion. Certainly an appealing image, one that nearly sent him over the edge, and he made a silent promise to make it a reality before their time was up.

Despite the lack of any particularly loud evidence of it, Robyn was certainly not neglecting her own pleasure. Her right hand roamed all over his body, feeling his muscles tighten just under the warm skin at her touch. She loved how solid he felt, loved the feel of his hands cupping her breasts before they moved to her hips to assist the rhythm they had fallen into, even if that rhythm was quickly deteriorating as both approached climax. He shifted a little beneath her, changing the angle at which they came together, reaching deeper inside. Her breath hitched, and she bit her lip involuntarily, basing herself against him with her free hand.

"Good?" she barely recognized his voice through their mutual haze of arousal.

"Was... supposed to be... for you," she managed, though not without a nod.

The horse sound must have been his attempt at laughter. "You think I'm not enjoying this?"

He gave several harder faster thrusts as if in proof of just how much he was. It was enough to send them both over the edge within minutes, though neither could say who really came first. All Robyn remembered was her nails digging into his shoulder as his own fingers left dimples in the flesh at her hips. They were motionless for a full minute, simply focused on the feeling of being joined, then she released the breath she did not even realize she was holding and slowly released him.

Dingo rolled over, disposing of the condom in the wast bin near the bedside table. It was lucky that it was within his reach, because getting up was the last thing he wanted to do. A glance over at his partner told him she was equally satisfied. He could not see her well, but the feel of her mouth on his was unmistakable. It was a different kind of kiss, less enticing but rather almost soothing somehow. A seal of confirmation of a night well spent.

"Paid in full?" she asked, grinning against his lips.

"No complaints here," he nipped her bottom lip lightly. "In fact, I might owe you change."

"Ah, then it's a good thing we have five more nights."


	4. Day 2: Discord

_**Author's Note:**_Again, Day chapter so PG-13 rating applies. There's talk of sex but nothing actually going on. Thanks to all my readers. Enjoy and please review! Feedback is love.

**Day 2**

**Discord**

Two things greeted Dingo as he awoke the next morning. First, it was not nearly as hot as it had been for the last two days. With the fan on and window open ajar, the room was not too uncomfortable, even counting the sheets damp from sex and sweat tangled all about him. The second was that the digital clock on the nightstand to his right was pulsed 11:47. When was the last time he had slept till nearly midday? What day of the week was it? Sunday? He let his head fall back on the pillow, blissfully careless of the answers to either of those questions.

The bed was empty beside him, but the sound of the running shower told him that his companion had not gone far. So she had decided to take him up on the offer to spend the rest of her vacation with him. It pleased Dingo immensely. Not just because the sex was great – that would be an understatement – but mainly because he had been more than slightly concerned that between his time as a solo mercenary and as a member of the Pack, he had lost the ability to communicate with normal human beings on humane terms for any prolonged periods of time. He wondered if maybe that was unfair to her but quickly decided he was over thinking things.

_Nothin' wrong with havin' a good time_, he thought as he swung both legs over the side of the bed. _She's only here for a few days, anyway._

He went on a search for his boxers, likely to be found discarded somewhere at the foot of the bed. When he did not find them there, he began rummaging through the other discarded garments in the room, going as far as to check under the bed. Rising from the awkward position, his elbow caught something on the nightstand that went tumbling down. When he looked, he saw her bag on the floor, its contents spilled.

Dingo bent back to hastily pick up and replace them. He hoped it would not look like he'd been snooping on purpose. It was not like there was anything interesting there anyway. Her cell phone, small notepad, wallet, lipstick... lipstick? The silvery cylindrical object certainly _looked_ like a tube of lipstick, complete with a removable top and crimson colored stick beneath it, but he was fairly certain lipsticks were not supposed to be vibrating like that.

He stared at the object in his hand, wondering what the hell it was and how did he get it to stop. Dingo was still fielding with it when she emerged from the bathroom, white towel wrapped around her body. Water streamed in small river onto it from her long blond hair, slightly darker from being wet. One glance from from her still-messy bad to the object in his hand, and her brows drew together in a hard look that demanded an explanation.

"I wasn't going through your things," he blurted. "The bag fell over. I was just picking things up. What on earth is this?"

Without bothering to dress first, Robyn stalked across the room and snatched the object in question from his hand. She twisted something to turn it off, holding it up for him to see as if teaching a young child how to unscrew a bottle cap.

"You act like you've never seen a vibrator before," she commented, more amusement than anger in her voice as she replaced it in her bag and zipped the whole thing up.

"That's a..." he did his best to reign in his surprise. "Well, not one like _that_. What does a woman like you want with one of those, anyway?"

"Should I be flattered by that comment?" she laughed then shrugged. "I'm not always so... fortunate on these little vacations. If I'm to spend the entire week alone, I prefer to be prepared and self-sufficient."

"Oh, you're definitely self-sufficient."

His gaze followed her as she moved around the room with the proficient accuracy of a well-trained soldier. That, too, told him a great deal about her character.

"You like to be in control," he finally said, watching her intently.

Robyn gave him a side long glance as she picked up her clothes and straightened them out. "You get all that from my vibrator?"

"And the last two nights. You like to be in control and you don't think someone else can do as good a job as you."

She scowled. "You're not one of those men who thinks they always have to be on top."

"Who am I t' bicker 'bout positions?" he grinned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Robyn continued to look at him hard until a moment later she realized what he was referring to. Pressing her lips together tightly, she tried hard not to laugh. As it was, she settled for smiling coyly at his reflection in the mirror.

"And here I always thought it was every boy's wet dream to watch a woman touch herself."

"Absolutely," Dingo affirmed, "Watchin' a beautiful woman get herself off: hottest thing in the world. Watchin' her do it when it's s'pposed t' be my job to do it for her: not nearly as hot."

The door to the hotel room rattled a little before she had a chance to reply. All traces of humor and teasing vanished from both their features as they exchanged a confused look, but quickly realized the cause.

"Did we put a 'do not disturb' sign on the door?"

Dingo strongly suspected the answer was a big 'no'. He made a lunge for his boxers under the bed, while Robyn retreated to the bathroom with the heap of fresh clothing in hand. There was just enough time for him to pull on a pair of pants and make it to the door before it was pushed open. Dingo brassed against it, not allowing the no doubt surprised cleaning person to open it more than an inch.

"Mind comin' back later, mate?" he asked. "Folks here not yet descent."

Unlike the kid from the pharmacy last night, this person was much quicker on the uptake. After all, it was common knowledge what rooms like these were used for more often than not. The cleaner made an affirmative noise and moved on. Dingo locked the door once again and turned in time to see Robyn emerge from the bathroom again, fully dressed in a pair of form-fitting jeans and black t-shirt, her hair already dried and tied back.

"Is the Museum of Contemporary Art open today?" she asked.

"Think so. Why? Yesterday's tour not to your taste?" he wiped.

She shrugged her elegant shoulder and picked up her bag. "You were the one who called me a control freak. I've decided that's were we're going."

"I see," he followed her out the door. "This is punishment, isn't it?"

* * * * * * * * * *

In a modern metropolis like Sydney, public transportation was well developed, but even it was not immune to overcrowding. Still, the metro in the early afternoon was not nearly as crowded as it had been for the last two days. Aside from Robyn and her companion, there were at most five other people in the cart; a mother showing her young son something out the window, a business man in a classic three-piece suit reading a newspaper, and a coupe who were clearly not interested in anything beyond the scope of each other's lips.

Robyn, as a rule, did not enjoy the sight of public displays of affection and liked to think that she did not suddenly develop weird voyeuristic tendencies, but she kept glancing in their direction. Young, early twenties at the most, and definitely in love or at least they looked like they thought they were. She felt a twinge of jealousy at the normality of it all, then, in true the-Nile-is-not-just-a-river-in-Egypt fashion, quickly brushed it off. _Won't last_, she thought cynically. _The things some people do on the metro..._

A sudden flash of memory reminded her that maybe she was being a little hypocritical. Robyn chuckled softly, causing Dingo who sat beside her to tilt his head in question. She leaned in slightly.

"Funny story," she said in a low voice. "My elder brother and I were in London a while back and we stopped by Waterstone's, one of their major bookstore chains. I was sixteen at the time, and my tastes ran to... well, shall we say things that are _not_ found in the romance section. A bit stronger than bodice rippers."

"You were reading porn," he supplied, loud enough for the mother a few seats away to glare at them both. Robyn paid the woman no mind, but kept her own voice down.

"They prefer to call it erotic literature, but yes. Anyway, my brother, at eighteen, liked to think of himself as oh, so grown up and beneath such 'trash'. He wanted to leave the store and was angry that he had to even come and retrieve me from there let alone that I refused to go for a long time. Eventually I left just because I was tired of arguing with him, but not before I picked up a little something.

"You know those large format 'Joy of Sex' or 'Kama Sutra' books they sell in the bargain section with graphically detailed photos that promise to show you how it's done as if you're a complete imbecilic? I bought one and, when we were heading back during rush hour in the underground, sat with the thing opened in my lap so that everyone around could see the pictures and pretended to read it with great interest. My brother was mortified."

The story got a good chuckle out of Dingo, too. He could picture the whole thing very clearly and was suddenly happy he did not have sisters. He may not know Robyn's elder brother but at the moment felt for the man.

"Can't exactly say I'm surprised," he put in.

"By what?"

"The whole thing. You like to have things your way, and when you don't, you get even."

The look she gave him could have caused hell to freeze over and the devil to move to the arctic for warmer climates.

"You've known me for less than two days," she reminded him. "Don't presume to psychoanalyze me."

The tension floated in the air between them for a heartbeat, then Dingo simply shrugged, crossed his arms and leaned back into the stiff metro cart seat, eyes closed as if he had not a care in the world.

"Whatever you say."

That only served to make her angrier, though she had nothing to lash out at. That frustrated her even more, and Robyn settled back trying not to sulk. Both remained silent for the rest of the ride and exited the cart.

Neither noticed that the man in the three-piece suit rolled up his newspaper and stepped out of the train after them.

* * * * * * * * * *

The museum was close to Circular Quay station, only few blocks away from the Rocks, which was why Robyn had remembered it. She thought it would be a nice change from the previous day; something modern after something historic. She generally had lukewarm feelings towards modern art, nothing special beyond a basic curiosity. Judging by his reaction, Harry fell into the category of people who thought that modern art was equivalent to the scribe of a four-year-old.

She had meant to wander around for only an hour and give him a break, but the comments earlier had annoyingly gotten under her skin, and Robyn was now determined to remain till the museum's early Sunday closing. She would turn this into exactly what he called it: revenge. It was not as if she was forcing him to stay, which eventually he did not, muttering something about wishing to see a different hall and wandering away.

Alone for the first time since she walked into the bar on Friday evening, Robyn sat down on the bench across from some odd sculpture of a jet plane hanging nose down from the ceiling. It reminded her of one of the many plastic toys Jonny had as a boy that transformed into other plastic toys indistinguishable from the original except to the trained eye. She vividly remembered that she had once picked the largest and taken it apart to figure out how it worked. Her little brother threw a tantrum and was not pacified until she'd put it back together and even fixed the robot's squeaky wing/arm/canon.

Jason, she purposefully agitated.

Jonny, she pacified.

Either way, Robyn had long ago learned exactly how to deal with each of her brothers.

She paused, considering.

Alright, so maybe there was some truth to Harry's words. She perfected to have no one but herself responsible for her. Robyn had complete ownership of both her accomplishments and her mistakes. This made her not the easiest person in the world to work with. Her brothers would have been the first people to accuse her of being a control freak, but that was different; Jason and Jonny were family who had known her all her life. The fact that a man she had known for less than two days picked up on it – from sex, no less! – disturbed her.

Tired of trying to figure out the deeper meaning behind the airplane, she got up. Might as well find the man and make peace. It was not his fault that she was so screwed up, her control freak tendencies manifested themselves in bed. It did not take her long to find him in the museum's small food court, flipping through one of the guides with minimal interest. She approached with two cups in her hand, setting the one with coffee in front of him before she sat down on the opposite side of the table with her own filled with ice tea.

"Peace offering," she said, indicating the cup when he raised a brow at it. "Truce?"

For a moment he just looked at the cup, then Dingo sat up, tossing the pamphlet on the table, and took the coffee.

"Truce," he agreed, and the cold tension that had saturated the air between them since the late morning lifted.

The silence while they sipped their respective drinks was a comfortable one this time, and Dingo was glad for it. It was not like he minded seeing her riled up; any passion looked great on her. But he was not at all a fan of the silent treatment, and damn, the woman could be a bitch when she put her mind to it. He was not about to point that out and screw up things again, though.

"I take it you didn't find anything fascinating," Robyn finally broke the silence after her tea was half empty.

"Yeah, can't say this place does anythin' for me," Dingo admitted. "I'm not from the kinds of social circles that's expected t' get this stuff."

Robyn held her tongue from commenting that she _was_ was from those circles and she rarely got it either. It was all well and good to tell humorous anecdotes that could have happened to anyone, but comments like that were exactly the kinds of things she avoided mentioning. They tended to lead to too many well-placed questions. She doubted the Canmore name meant anything down here, but there was no need to advertise.

"I think I'm done, too," she said finally. "Any desire to walk back up to the Rocks?"

His face brightened at that. "Sure."


	5. Night 3: Scars

_**Author's Note:**_It's been forever, I know, but I haven't abandoned this or any other of my stories. The only thing is I'm lifting my previous self-imposed NC rule. Not all the night chapters will have a hard NC rating. Most – like this one – be light to regular R actually. Just can't write force myself to write smut sometimes ^^;;. Also I mentioned I was planning to scale down on the number of chapters, but I changed my mind. The story will still have 14 chapters (7 nights, 7 days) because I reread one of my old reviews and remembered there was a reason I designed it like this. Other than that, enjoy and please review!

**Night 3**

**Scars**

Something was wrong.

Dingo could not put his finger on what it was, but something had been bugging him all day from the museum to the Rocks and back to the hotel. If he did not know better, he could have sworn they were being followed, but he had no idea who would want to. Sure, he was a wanted fugitive in the States, but he had managed to keep his nose clean in his home country thus far. So what the hell was wrong?

His companion obviously picked up on his distracted state because on several occasions she inquired if he was alright. Night was fast approaching which made him feel no better. Not that Dingo couldn't handle himself, and it was not like that part of the city was prone to random outbursts of violence, but if his old life was about to catch up with him, he did not want an innocent woman caught in the crossfire. He was still hoping it was all in his imagination. Maybe it was, but Dingo was still relived when they returned to the hotel without incident. It was not a conscious decision, but apparently they were spending the night in his room. And apparently, whether it was their earlier discourse or his current lack of focus, a cold shower would not have been able to kill the mood more than it already had been.

"I'll be back in a bit," Robyn promised. By the cell sliding out of her pocket and the motion of the general direction of her own room, Dingo guessed she was checking in with her brothers.

He drummed his fingers on the top of the television screen as the door closed behind her then abruptly grabbed the swipe card from the counter and headed out as well. One circle around the building and parking lot should settle his nerves. It did seem to help, but just as he was about to make a final round and take the stairs back up to the second floor, Dingo noticed a man a few steps to the side of the door to the front office.

He frowned a little, wondering why he should take any note of him, when it finally clicked. It was the same three-piece suit and news paper from the train. In flash he veered from his course to the stairs and made long pointed strides towards the man who suddenly found his watch very interesting and made a move to leave as if he realized he had to be somewhere urgently. Dingo did not buy it for a second.

Reaching the man quickly without actually drawing attention to them, he grabbed his upper arm and squeezed tightly. The message was clear: _make a sound, and you'll regret it. _Dingo dragged him into the shadows and roughly tossed the man against a wall, his forearm pressed to his throat so the stranger was gasping for breath.

"Wanna tell me why you've been following me all day, mate?" the Australian had not actually seen the man all day but had a pretty good idea he was the cause of his unease.

"Coat pocket," the man gasped. "Check my coat pocket."

_Definitely American_. Dingo scowled but did so, pulling out a once-folded card and opened it..

Xanatos Enterprises.

Now he was pissed.

"What the bloody hell does Xanatos want with me? I cut all ties with him and his horror show back in the States after the last botched fiasco."

"Not him," the man shook his head. "His wife."

"Fox?" he was more confused than angry now and released the man.

"My instructions were just to find you," the American confessed. "She told me to let you know to call her at that number," he nodded at the hand-written digits on the back of the card. "Said she has a job offer for you."

His anger was back in an instant. "Go back to the States and tell 'er she can take 'er job offer and shove it. I ain't interested."

Giving the man one good shove for emphasis, he stepped back, arms crossed, and watched him scramble out of the way and to the parking lot and towards a navy colored car. Suddenly Dingo had a flash of inspiration.

"Nice Jeep," he smirked. "Four-by-four?"

* * * * * * * * * *

Robyn had decided to call Jon more out of something to occupy herself than a real need. Harry seemed to have something on his mind, so she decided to give him some space. Her cell had been off for the past two days, but now, despite her need to get away from her family, Robyn found herself wondering what would happen if a real emergency had occurred. Better to check in and make sure, just in case.

"Morning," her little brother sounded cheerful, "or whatever time it is where you are."

"It's nighttime, Jonny," usually she would not have given any clue as to where in the world she was, but it was not much to go on and Robyn trusted him to say nothing to their brother. "How are things on your end? Where are you?"

"Italy, but you probably don't want to know why. We're fine."

"Ah, that's good to hear," if he thought she did not want to know what they were doing in Italy, it probably meant it had something to do with the usual family business.

"How is your vacation going?"

"Good," she toyed with the pendant from the Rocks market that still hung around her neck.

"'Good' like you're finding the sights mildly interesting, or 'good' like I shouldn't be asking for details?" her brother teased.

Robyn couldn't help but smile. "Love you, Jonny,"

"That good, huh? Okay, I'll tell Jason not to expect you back early."

"No, definitely not. Don't even bother telling him I called. He'll just harass you about it. I just wanted to check in."

"Then my lips are sealed," he promised. "Enjoy the rest of your trip."

"I will. See you in a few days."

"Night, sis."

Harry nowhere in sight by the time she returned to his hotel room with a few fresh articles of clothes, but that was fine. Robyn headed over to the bathroom and turned on the tap. The heatwave from the first day was receding, but it was still hot enough for her to be glad even for the wall air condition unit.

_On second thought_, she eyed the shower. _Why not?_ Who knew when he'd be back, and it would only be a quick rinse.

She heard the front door opening just as she stepped out and wrapped the towel around her body and then slam suddenly. The bathroom was still locked, but she could hear him toss something on the table, curse, then pace for a moment outside. Robyn picked up a brush and loosened her hair which has been pinned up for the shower, letting him cool down a bit before raising her voice to call through the door.

"What?"

She heard him stop and sigh. "For the record, if I've been off, it's got nothing to do with you."

"Alright..," it was said slowly, like a prompt for him to continue. Dingo made a face.

"I got a call from Fox, a former friend of mine."

"I take it he's not someone you're particularly happy to hear from," satisfied with her hair, Robyn unlocked the door and padded out to get her clothes.

"'Fox' isn't short for Foxworth or anythin' like that. Fox is a woman," he laughed a little at the need to correct her but quickly realized maybe he should not have. She was frowning. Standing in the bathroom doorway in a towel and frowning. "A happily married woman with a baby on the way, last I heard. She's just a friend. Was a friend."

"Oh," Dingo tried not to feel a little satisfied at the jealousy and embarrassment that flashed across her face all within the span of seconds before it returned to a more neutral expression. After all this was a woman he has known for less than 72 hours.

"Anyway," he cleared his throat. "No, I'm not happy to hear from her. Before she... settled down, she used to run with some rough folks. We both did. She's not exactly a _bad_ person, but I came back here t' get away from that part of my life and I'm not 'bout t' invite anyone from there back in."

He tried not to make it sound terribly ominous so that she would not be wondering just what kind of life it was he was running away from. Robyn looked thoughtful, arms folded, lips pressed together in a line. Finally she shrugged a shoulder.

"I don't know what your friend wants," she said carefully, "but sometimes you have to do what's best for yourself."

The statement sounded somewhat cryptically, like she was talking not entirely to him, but Dingo was not about to dwell on it. Not when there was a much better way to forget all of the day's foul-ups. He did not even give her a chance to turn off the light in the bathroom or hang the towel. That's what housekeeping was for, anyway.

* * * * * * * * * *

He loved touching her. It may have been far too sentimental for a couple nights worth of admittedly really good sex, but more than anything else she felt cool and somehow exotic to him. It was ironic. Most people in Europe or North America would have found Australia to be the land of wonder and mystery, but to him this tough northern woman was the curiosity. He ran a feather light touch along the curve of her hips, tight flat belly, breasts and arms.

Then he suddenly stopped.

"What are these?"

He lightly skimmed the pale scars barely visible to the naked eye. If they were not so physically close and he had never seen knife wounds in his life, Dingo may not have noticed at all. Whoever patched her up did a damn good job, but that did not preclude the fact that her body bore the remnants of obvious battle wounds. His frown deepened, and he looked to her for an explanation. Robyn sighed , disentangled herself from him, and reached for the sheets, feeling too naked, too open.

"Do you always ask about everyone's scars?"

"If they're on a woman I'm in bed with," he retorted. "Scars like that means a man put his hands on her in a way he shouldn't have. Who did that to you?"

An instant realization at what he was implying washed over her, and Robyn suddenly found herself unable to keep from laughing. She dispensed with the sheets and leaned across the bed to kiss him full on the mouth, the hair on his chest lightly tickling her breasts as they grazed his pecks. Surprised, Dingo kissed her back but hesitantly, as he was still not at all sure what was going on. Robyn pulled back, still smiling, and took his right hand.

"This," she placed it on the slightly raised scar on her hip. "My elder brother nicked me with a four inch harpy. And this," she moved his hand to one on her arm, "is from the younger getting sloppy with a lockback. Don't worry. They have souvenirs from me, too."

It was obvious from his more than a little horrified expression that he wanted to ask just what kind of family she had, but Robyn just waved her hand.

"We lost our father when I was fourteen," she explained, "to... well, unnatural causes. After that my elder brother insisted that we all train in various forms of combat and defense, especially me, being the only girl. They can be rather overprotective at times, my brothers. Believe me, no man puts his hands on me in a way I don't like."

He seemed satisfied with that explanation, and the mixture of lust and mischief returned to his face. In one smooth motion, Dingo rolled them over so that he was poised above her on his elbows. He bent his head to nip lightly at the smooth skin that stretched across her collar bone.

"Well, then," his lips curved into a sly smile. "Guess I'll just have to figure out what that is."

Later in the night, the slight post-sex euphoria still hanging in the air, Dingo pulled her close to his chest, never allowing their bodies to separate, and cupped her left breast stroking his thumb over the nipple. Robyn stifled an uncharacteristic giggle. Some people did not appreciate laughter during or even after sex which was something she never understood. Both were supposed to feel good.

"You're a breast man," she accused teasingly.

He gave her a look of utter innocence then rolled them over so they were facing one another.

"I have kind of a crazy proposition."


End file.
